Equivalent Exchange
by SworntoDevotion
Summary: When Egyptian magic isn't enough, Mana consults forbidden alchemy to resurrect her dead master, hoping to assauge her pharaoh's growing despair. However, the young spellcaster is unfamilar with the most important alchemic rule. If one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given. Yet, what can equal the value of her master's soul?
1. Sorrow

Hooves clattered against the ground, kicking up loose dirt, rocks, and sand as it trekked across the burning desert ground. The flanks of the horse were drenched in sweat and the rider herself panted in short, uneven breaths. White robes trailed behind her in the wind and the light of Ra glinted against her gold headdress. She rode as in earnest, knowing the worst had occurred, but desperately pleading that she was wrong. Yet, that was impossible. Her Millennium Item never lied. Finally, up ahead, she saw it. A thick stone tablet standing upright. A young girl in short robes knelt before it, weeping inconsolably. _Mahad! _Jumping from her mount, Isis sprinted toward the others. It was just as her Item had foretold.

Priest Mahad was gone.

"Master! Master!" The young girl continued her cries, her hands grazing across the cold, unresponsive tablet until she crumpled further into the sand. Strong arms embraced her and her skin felt the cool caress of cold metal. Sorrowful aquamarine stared into grieving amethyst. "Mana," came the Pharaoh's voice, usually so strong and confident, now an aching whisper.

With a face still wracked with tears, Mana earnestly pleaded with the man kneeling beside her, "Pharaoh, you can summon him for the stone tablet, can't you?! Please, I want to be with my master!" Before the Pharaoh could reply, a firm voice spoke, "Mana! Mahad's soul needs time to rest after his battle!" Both Atem and Mana turned to face the priestess standing before them. "Besides," Isis continued, her voice softening. "Your heka isn't strong enough to see spirits yet."

Fresh tears brimmed in Mana's eyes as the truth of Isis' words stung her. Behind the trio, a set of footsteps shuffled and a guard stepped forward. He was one of the men Mahad had taken with him to seal the tomb where he was to fight Bakura. In his hands, he held a parcel wrapped with a thin piece of linen. To the shock of Atem and Isis, Mana abruptly stood up and stepped toward the guard, shouting in a haze of blind rage and aching sorrow, "You! How could you let my Master go through with this?! How could you seal him in there with that...that...thief!" Behind her, Atem stood upright. "Mana! That's enough!" Letting her grief overwhelm her, she ignored the Pharaoh's protest. " If he had just taken me with him, I could have protected him! You coward! How dare you stand there holding his…" Mana took a fearful step back as a golden triangular pendant slipped out from the linen cloth.

"I-is th-that…?!" Mana stammered, as the guard pulled the linen cloth, completely revealing the object underneath. Atem exhaled behind her. "It is." Sadly, the guard glanced down at the object, as if holding a silent conversation. "This was the only thing of Master Mahad's were were able to recover from the tomb." In his hands lay the Millennium Ring.

"So the thief didn't steal it!" came Priest Seto's astonished cry. Crossing his arms with a snort, the priest huffed, "It seems Mahad is not a total failure...but we still don't know whether Bakura is dead or alive!"

But, Mana heard none of this. She stood perfectly still as if in a trance, her eyes trained on a single object - the Millennium Ring. Atem looked from Mana to the Ring and back. With renewed resolve, he swallowed his sorrow and approached the guard. Gingerly, the king's fingers traced the curve of the Ring. The metal warmed the tips of his fingertips and a small vibration worked its way gently up his arm. _So, _Atem mused sadly, a small smile forming on his lips. _Your magic still inhabits this Item, Mahad_. Gently, as if the golden relic would crumble like brittle bones, Atem placed the Ring between his own palms. Heaving a deep sigh, he stepped toward Mana, who, though still frozen as a statue, regarded him with increasing fear.

"Mana," he said, taking another step toward her. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Not so soon." His eyes drifted back to Mahad's tablet looming before them. Closing his eyes, he took in a breath, calming the torrent of emotions threatening to rip him apart. "Mana," he said again, this time holding her aquamarine gaze steadily within his own piercing, amethyst. "The time has come." Taking another fearful step back, Mana's eyes widened. "The time?! For what?"

"The time for you to don the Millennium Ring."

Incredulous, Mana shook her head back and forth, denying it. "But my apprenticeship isn't complete and I need Master Mahad to guide me!" Stepping forward, Isis placed a firm hand on Mana's now trembling shoulder, "Mana! Listen. You _must_ inherit Mahad's will!" Pushing her gently to face Mahad's tablet, Isis again gentled her tone. "Go train, Mana. This is Mahad's wish."

Clearing his throat, Atem stepped toward Mana, the spines of the Ring chiming as he moved. Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, he instructed her to close her eyes. Mana felt a new weight on her chest. Snapping her head down, she saw that the Pharaoh had placed the Millennium Ring around her own neck. With fresh tears and fresh determination, Mana collapsed before the tablet, her chest constricting with her sobs, the spines of the Ring rattling wildly. "Master," she cried with every bit of energy she had left.

"I'll become an amazing magician."


	2. Decision

After the death of her master and friend, Mana and her prince mourn the loss of Mahaad and commit themselves to defending the kingdom against its impending downfall. As more guardians fall and the reign is plunged deeper into shadows, Mana senses it. On the prince's-no- the pharaoh's shoulders sits the crushing weight of sadness at his father's death, guilt at the millennium sacrifice, fear for the fate of his people. Mana sensed all this. She sensed his _burden_. He endured all this with impregnable resolve and yet, she intuitively knew - the loss of Mahaad, his closest friend and most trusted servant -_that_ loss was just too heavy to bear. Invoking the strength and sacrificial love that so strongly defined her late master, Mana set out to lighten his load…

* * *

><p><em>35 liters of water. 20 kg carbohydrates. 2 liters of ammonia.<em>

_1.5 kg of calcium. 800 grams of adenosine. 250 grams of salt._

_100 grams of nitrogen._ _80 grams of sulfur. 7.5 grams of fluoride._

_3 grams of silicon. 20 grams of trace metals and…_

Movement in the nearby hallway jerked her violently out of her revelrie. No! she thought desperately. He's coming! I don't have time to copy the spell!

Biting her lip in worry, fragments of thought whipped frantically through her consciousness, innumerable potential decisions firing from her synapses much too quickly to pin down.

Footsteps neared the door with a steady pace that echoed her painfully pulsing heart rate. She was used to this feeling. That thrill of adrenaline that surged through her being when she was about to be caught in the act of bewitching Seto's headdress pink or stuffing his sandals with moist Nile mud.

But this wasn't Seto's room nor was she about to be discovered in the act of a silly prank. If she was discovered here, the consequences would be -

No! She couldn't let herself think of that. She had to succeed. For him.

The footsteps halted outside the doorway. No time, she rebuked herself, ripping the page and stuffing it behind her belt. As the door was pushed open, Mana reclaimed her wand from the duat, her lips barely moved as she muttered her signature incantation -the freezing spell.

Casting a guilty glance at the figure frozen at the door, she whispered words of apology and slipped into the dark night.

* * *

><p>Ashen eyes widened with a jolt, then squeezed shut to block out the dizzying sensation of the bright light. His fingers tensed and flexed before sliding gingerly over his soft- limestone doorway? He shook his head side to side, trying to dispel the fog that had clouded over his mind. No, he reasoned. He hadn't been sleeping. Moments ago he had exited the throne room, the usual happenings of court at an end for the day. He had just reached the door when he had...fallen asleep? Perhaps taxing the magic of his Eye was beginning to take its toll on him. He shook his head at yet another sign of the burden of the Millennium items.<p>

Heaving a tired sigh, he pushed open the door to his chambers. He swiftly crossed the length of the room to pass through another door leading to his private study - a room bursting with all manner of scrolls, records, and papyri. A place where no other, but his son Seto, was allowed. Passing his eyes wistfully over the endless rows of scrolls, memories greeted his peaceful musings. The image of a tall, imposing priest bent over the desk, writing meticulously, determinedly. He saw his own finger press against a hieroglyph on the page, his voice, aged but rich, instructing the powerful priest before him. My son, he mused, letting his memories hang loose and flow over him as his feet wandered around the shelves. The soft linen of his sandals was greeted by the rough caress of old book cover.

Puzzled, Akhenaden leaned down to pick up the book he had stepped on. Taking the book in his hands and dusting the cover, he gasped - a sharp, horrified sound vibrating in his throat, setting off warning bells in his mind.

In his hands lay the Millennium Tome. How is this here? He cried inwardly. Who could have-? His thoughts stopped short as he noticed a shread of papyrus hanging loosing from the book. Hands shaking, he opened the book to the page from which the shred hung.

His hand hovered, trembling with fear over the missing page. He flipped ten pages forward. Ten pages back. His breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking it. It's gone, he whispered as an unsteady hand came to grip his head. The 1011th spell is gone!


	3. Toll

Be re_born_! Hi-_**nehm!**_

The summoning circle or as the spell called it, transmutation circle, began to glow - a brilliant blue like the color of the summer sky or the glint of Seto's azure robes. Mana's lips curved into a smile. _It's working_, she thought excitedly.

_Flash! _Mana nearly jumped out of her skin as lightning began to strike all around the tomb. Tendrils of shadow curled insidiously around the circle's perimeter. A huge, glowing red eye, like the snake eye of the chaos serpent Apophis, opened in the center of the circle.

Mana's breathing quickened as more tendrils of shadow solidified into the shape of arms. The arms swayed in the circle with such a gentle motion she almost mistook them for reeds of papyrus. Then, without warning, the shadowy arms lunged at her, piercing her skull, draining her energy, impaling her fierce, yet grief-stricken heart.

The transmutation circle grew darker, waves of cold rolling off of it. Instead of clear blue, the circle now donned a deep crimson hue that seemed to bathe the entire tomb in blood.

Suddenly all was white. She was somehow standing in a room, no a space, without ceiling or floor - without end or beginning. Behind her stood a large stone. _Like a tablet for sealing ka_, Mana mused. But this one had inscriptions she had never seen before. _Those certainly are the strangest hieroglyphics I've ever seen._

"Magician-girl!"

Mana turned abruptly only to come face to face with a small, humanoid man crouching on the nonexistent floor. His body was white and formless like a blank page. The only discernible emotion came from the lopsided grin plastered across his otherwise featureless face.

"Who are you?"

"I am what you call the world. Or perhaps the universe, or perhaps God, or perhaps truth, or perhaps all, or perhaps one…"

Noting the clear look of confusion on Mana's face, the blank being reconsidered his explanation.

"Or perhaps in your more familiar Egyptian tongue, perhaps Maat, or perhaps Nun, or perhaps Isfet, or perhaps Amun…but I am also…. _you!_"

"ME?!" Mana shrieked in disbelief as the stone tablet behind her became a doorway that opened up. Mana turned to face the doorway and the Apophis eye, the same one that had appeared on the transmutation circle, gleamed dangerously before her. With a swift, decisive motion, tendrils of shadow hands surrounded her - clutching at her hands, her feet, her wrists, her waist, her neck, her elbows. Twisting, turning, half-running, half-crawling, she desperately tried to detach the black hands from her body, but they only squeezed tighter around her slim figure.

"Relax," came the Truth creature's voice. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Black hands had completely encased her, forming a sort of shadowy cocoon. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her screams as they began to drag her into the dark abyss behind the doorway.

"I will show you the truth."

The Truth creature's menacing grin was the last thing she saw before she was completely submerged in the dark abyss beyond the doorway.

Lines of pictures, of events, of gods and demons and kings passed before her as she fell further and further into the abyss. She saw the beginning of creation, as the ben-ben pushed up into existence out of the primordial waters of Nun. She saw Set trick Osiris, and battle Horus for the pharaoh's throne. But, she not only saw events from the Age of the Gods. She saw events from her own life. She watched as dancing, ethereal images showed her hiding in vases with a young Atem. She saw herself playing pranks on the unsuspecting Priest Seto.

Her breath caught in her throat. There - in one of the far images - she saw her Master.

She watched as the images replayed the moment he was ordained as a Priest and donned the Millennium Ring for the first time. She saw events related to her magician's training as day after day, Mahad would battle her laziness and carefree spirit in a vain attempt to get her to learn a new spell or read through yet another stuffy scroll.

Mana had to stifle tears as the last few images played. She watched silently as the Mahad-image gifted Atem with a sad, passionate kiss the night he went to face Bakura alone. She saw her Master in the very same tomb she was casting the forbidden alchemy facing the Thief King. Her chest constricted painfully as she watched her Master give his life to merge his ba and his ka.

She could stand it no longer.

"MAHAD! MAHAD, COME BACK! The Pharaoh needs you! Your pharaoh! Atem! Come back to him! Come back to ME! We can't win this war without you!"

And there he was, a tall, well-built priest, stepping out of the abyss, arm outstretched toward her. Just as Mana's fingers were about to brush those of Mahad - poof - she was back in the white, formless void. The Truth creature grinned eerily at her.

Mana turned and faced the doorway. Placing her hands against the cold stone, Mana exclaimed, "I was right! The 1011th spell does work! I can bring Master Mahad back. Please, show me again. I was so close to freeing my Master. I -"

"Sorry, I can only show you this much for the toll you've paid," came the voice, which before was calm and stoic now morphed to contain a menacing, inhuman edge.

"Toll?!" Mana stared in shock as an image of her ib - her spiritual heart - appeared on the Truth creature's chest. Instantly, a maddening, racking pain suffocated her own. Mana squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip so hard she bled, in an attempt to stop the pain and force back her own terrified screams. As she peered once again at the Truth creature, her eyes widened as a single silver chain curled around his neck. Dangling from it was a small rectangular pendant. A cartouche. Mana dropped to one knee as a fresh wave of pain crashed over her. Her hands clutched her chest as she in vain tried to halt the onslaught of pouring blood.

"Didn't anyone tell you about equivalent exchange, little magician?"

She was shocked out of her vision by the sound of her own gut-wrenching scream. She was no longer in the blank expanse of space, but back in the dank tomb. The site of her forbidden ritual. Pools of blood had formed around her. She clutched at her chest, a wound as big as a fist gushed fresh crimson. At the back of her head, her thick brown mane was matted with the life substance.

_This….this wasn't supposed to happen…!_

Overwhelmed, she collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

"Master!" she shouted, the thick walls of the desolate tomb reverberating with the sound of her pained cry. "Master, help!.. Mahad!...Please"... _I need you_…

When no one replied, she gritted her teeth and gathered what feeble strength she had left. Suppressing the urge to vomit, she forced herself to stomach the extreme horror of her own blood –besmirched visage. The repulsive shine of the slick liquid filled her vision so vividly that she could not distinguish her body from the trembling ground. The palette of the dank, lonely tomb was nearly consumed by the contrast between the creamy, off-white of Mana's dress and the crimson of her own blood. All was red - grotesque and chaotic. Perhaps the blood was meant to serve as a symbol of how deep her crime stained her. Why should an act born out of such compassion produce such a horrific sight? Staring at the ground in grief, she forced her attention to stray from the carmine liquid.

Her eyes drifted to the center of the array.

A figure stood. _Stood!_ Whole and complete - human. Nothing like the black shriveled pseudo-creatures that marred every previously documented attempt. She had done it. The first successful transmutation. A magician's apprentice from a land of deserts and loctus. A mere child to some. Her gaze rose steadily up his form.

He was magnificent.

As inch after delicious inch of his form was relayed to her insatiable gaze, a powerful sense of loss rippled through her entire being. Her eyes finally reached the gold of his headdress and were rewarded with the greatest of his splendors - the warm, endless depths of his brown eyes. "Mana," the figure spoke as dizziness and fatigue finally claimed the young spellcaster.


	4. Master

Is she still asleep?"

The young Pharaoh stepped into the large bedchambers. Night had fallen gently. Outside the palace, the Pharaoh's subjects were sleeping fitfully, awaiting Ra to complete his journey through the twelve houses and rise with the strength and power of the sun.

"Yes, my pharaoh." A warm, gentle voice replied, sitting on the edge of a luxurious bed, gently caressing his fingertips against the cheeks of his brave, foolish student. Her blood-soaked clothes had been changed and now she rested in the soft embrace an embroidered linen nightgown much longer than what she normally wore. Settling himself in a vacant chair across from the bed, the young king sat, his gaze slowly ascending the form of the man before him. The same toned limbs, the pristine white robes, the golden Millennium Ring once again around his neck, its spines humming softly, as if pleased to be reunited with its old master. Atem's gaze traveled further up the magician's form. The chestnut hair peeking out from under his headdress, those warm brown eyes full of loyalty and devotion. The figure, noticing the king's intense gaze, flushed darkly with embarrassment, turning his head away to look again upon the face of his apprentice.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping as well….Mahad?" Even with his priest sitting not a foot away from him, the mere act of uttering his name brought new, deep anguish to the sovereign. Mahad's breath caught in his throat to hear his name once again sung on the chords of his king's deep, baritone voice. Stilling the hand that stroked his student's cheek, Mahad replied, "I will rest, my king. But only after I am assured of Mana's wellbeing."

The two shared a glance that even in the silence was deep and rich with meaning. Sighing, the pharaoh readjusted himself more comfortably in his chair. "Well then, if you insist, we shall wait together. Let us pray that the gods of Egypt show mercy."

Nodding once, sadly, Mahad and his sovereign turned to watch the sleeping form of Mana, hoping, praying, begging that her sleep was only temporary and not eternal.

"Isis. Have you heard? Mahad...he-he's returned…"

The priestess opened her eyes slowly, extinguishing the flame she had summoned over the clear scrying pool, the image projected across the rippling amber oil faded to black. Meeting the eyes of the clean shaven priest before her, Isis answered, "Yes, Shada. I know." Stepping out from behind a column, a thickly muscled priest asked, "Were you able to see anything?" Shaking her head in dismay, the priestess replied, "No, Kareem. Ever since Mana donned the Millennium Ring, she has become connected to it and, as you know, I can't see the future of a person with a Millennium Item." With a slight intake of breath, Shada's eyes widened. "Then...that means...you don't know whether Mana will live or di-" A strong voice cut him off.

"Shada! We mustn't lose hope!"

"Kareem is right!" Isis replied, standing and walking over to her fellow priests. "Mana is strong. Just like her Master. She'll be fine." With a sigh, Shada conceded. "You're right. Let's all go get our beauty rest. We want to look alive when Mana awakens." Realizing what he'd said, Shada winced at his own joke. "Shada's right," Kareem agreed. "Let's get some rest. Mana will be fine." As they walked toward the bedchambers, Isis added silently, Gods of Egypt, help us if we're wrong...

The cool Egyptian breeze lapped at the Vizier's robes as he stood on the Grand Balcony. Glancing overhead at the sky, littered with millions of stars, he prayed silently to his old king and beloved friend.

Akhnamkanen. For all my years and wisdom, I am completely at a loss. What has happened here is beyond the scope of our ancient magic. I fear something much worse, much more dangerous is at play.

Shimon searched the skies, as if waiting for a reply, but the night remained silent. Suddenly, the Vizier chuckled, a soft, hearty sound that seemed out of place in the stillness.

Oh, Akhnamkanen. I know you remember the countless times we used to find her and the young prince hiding in vases to escape their lessons. You used to get so cross with them! Suddenly, Shimon sobered. But that was years ago. Now that young prince is a young pharaoh and Mana, a young magician. What she lacks in accuracy, she makes up in heart. Though I fear, this time her heart has led her onto an irreversible path. A path of destruction…

Once more, Shimon stared expectantly into the sky. Heaving a sigh, he turned back in the direction of his own bedchambers.

Goodnight, King Akhnamkanen. May your spirit watch over us all…

Some distance from the palace, an aged priest stood firmly in the glow of four tall columns, their capitals formed in the shape of lotus petals and their tops ablaze with magic fire and thick incense. All around him, etched on all the walls, the ceilings, the floor, were ka tablets. The priest's eyes drifted over each of them, coming to rest on the three largest tablets, the ones that housed the Egyptian gods.

"Lord Akhenaden!"

The aged priest turned to see his son, Seto enter the Shrine of Wedju. Bowing briefly, Priest Seto ascended the steps to stand at his Master's side. "I thought I might find you here." Crossing his arms, Millennium rod in tow, Seto continued. "I came with the intent on giving you a report about the ka hunt in the city, but it seems, now is not the time for that." Seto paused, looking expectantly into his Master's face. Akhenaden remained silent. With a sigh, Seto resumed. "This business with Mahad and that student of his needs to be sorted out immediately so we can focus our efforts and finding and crushing Bakura!" He spat the name like venom.

"Seto," Akhenaden began, appearing to tremble ever so slightly. "You do not understand. The magic that is at work here...it's beyond us."

"Beyond that mage's capabilities for certain!" Seto huffed. "What I don't understand is where she even found a spell of that nature. I'm no magician, but I know enough of the ancient scriptures to know that whatever spell Mana cast is no ordinary incantation."

"It's not."

Seto whirled around, staring into at the priest before him. "You mean, you know the origin of this magic?!" With a sweep of his arm, Seto demanded, "Master Akhenaden. Tell me...just who gave her this spell? Don't tell me she really found it among the scrolls of that sorry Master of hers!"

"Not who, Seto. Where."

"Where…? Just what do you mea-" Seto stopped as Akhenaden pulled a thick book from under the cover of his robes. "It can't be...Are you seriously suggesting…?"

"Seto," Akhenaden began, placing a calming hand on his son's shoulder. "The spell Mana cast is not Egyptian. In fact, it is not even of this dimension."

"Master Akhenaden," Seto replied in exasperation, his temper rising with each word. "You're not making any sense! Another dimension?!"

"Listen, Seto!" Akhenaden barked, stilling Seto in his tracks. "The spell Mana has stolen from the Millennium Tome is magic that has its origin in a country called Amestris. In this country, they do not practice magic like we do. And they do not even call it magic. They call it alchemy. The spell Mana attempted is known as the alchemy's one and only taboo."

"Taboo...?" Seto asked, shock and confusion closing around him like a vise. "What is it?"

After a long silence, Akhenaden looked his son directly in the eye, "It's called….human transmutation. In all the history of Amestris...in the history of their alchemy...no one has ever performed a human transmutation successfully."

"So that means-"

"Yes. Mana is the first and only person to do it and I fear, she is in terrible danger!"

"Then-then-" Seto stood, shaking himself out of his revelrie. "We must tell the Pharaoh at once!"

Mahad watched as grains of sand dropped from within the hourglass. Sighing deeply, he forced his eyes away from the hourglass, forced his thoughts away from how many hours had passed since he'd recovered Mana's bleeding form from the tomb. She still had not awakened. His pharaoh as well had fallen asleep, his head resting against Mahad's shoulder, his legs dangling from the chair. Mahad pulled his gaze from Mana to contemplate the sleeping young pharaoh beside him. His bronze skin glowed in the faint light of the torches that lined the large bedchamber. It was as if his very skin had been kissed by the sun. Mahad gently pushed a golden bang from his sovereign's eyes, curling the ends around his fingers, savoring the nearness of his king's presence. He bent his head to kiss the young pharaoh sweetly on the forehead when the door abruptly flew open, an alert, furious Seto emerged in the doorway with Master Akhenaden not far behind.

"Seto! What is the meaning of this?" Mahad glared at his least favorite priest as the pharaoh, who had been awoken by the slamming door, rubbed his eyes quickly. Sending his own curt glare in reply to Mahad, Seto quickly captured the pharaoh's gaze. "Pharaoh! You must assemble the court now!" Standing upright and moving closer to the fuming priest, the Pharaoh snapped, "Now?! What is so important that it cannot wait until morning?!"

"It's Mana, my king. I fear I know what has happened to her."

Atem's eyes widened at Akhenaden's admission. "You do?!" He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "Then tell me right now!" Stepping in front of Seto, Akhenaden replied, "Your highness, this is something all your sacred guardians must hear…"

"Fine." Atem snapped, adrenaline pulsing through him. "Assemble the other priests! The court shall convene in five minutes!" With a bow, Seto and Akhenaden turned away to do their king's bidding. Striding toward the door, Atem called out, "Mahad. Let's go. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"No, my pharaoh."

"No…?" Atem's eyes widened in shock. Mahad never disobeyed a direct order. Stunned, Atem turned to face his magician. "Why, Mahad…?"

"I will not leave Mana." Silently to himself he added, She's in the mess because of me.

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "Then bring her, my friend. Perhaps being near the others will do her some good."

Nodding, Mahad tenderly gathered his apprentice in his arms. With Atem in the lead, he carried Mana bridal style toward the sacred court, his heart lodging deeper and deeper in his throat.

When the trio arrived, all the other priests had already gathered in the great hall. "Mana!" Shada quickly shouted out, before furrowing his brows in confusion. "Wait...she's still not..." Mahad cradled Mana's head against his chest and stared into the despairing faces of his fellow priests. Atem cleared his throat and ascended the steps to his throne. Shimon took up his position beside him. "Now," the young sovereign said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the long hall. "Master Akhenaden, I believe you have something to share with us."

Stepping before the throne, Akhenaden relayed his discovery to the court, telling them of the strange country of Amestris, their secret magic called alchemy, and the taboo of human transmutation.

"But," the young pharaoh interrupted. "You say the others who have attempted this human transmutation have all failed."

"Yes, your highness. According to my research, two alchemist siblings attempted to resurrect their deceased mother. The brothers, Edward and Alphonse Elric, did not succeed. However, Edward lost his leg and his younger brother lost his entire body in the process."

The priests gasped. What sort of magic was this?

Akhenaden cleared his throat. "Well it appears that Edward was able to save his brother by binding his ka to a suit of armor, but at the price of his arm. They are not the only ones. Each person who attempted human transmutation paid a similar high price, what in their language is called a toll, for casting this forbidden magic."

"Everyone," Atem began, his voice carrying a note of hope, but also of caution. "Except Mana."

Akhenaden slowly shook his head. "Pharaoh, I'm afraid no one escapes without paying the toll."

A gasp behind them caught the court's attention. The young girl in Mahad's arms stretched her limbs and jumped to the floor. "Mana," Mahad cried, absolutely stunned. "You're-you're awake!" Lifting his cape in one swift movement, the pharaoh bounded down the steps, crushing Mana in a strong, protective hug. "Mana! Mana! You've come back to us!" The other priests signed in joy. Isis wiped tears from the corners of her eyes as Kareem and Shada happily gripped each other's shoulders. Priest Seto, though his expression remained stoic, seemed to have the slightest twinkle of relief in his eyes...but no, they must have been misreading that.

Giggling, Mana freed herself from Atem's crushing grip. "Come back? Where did I go?" Yawning, Mana stretched again. "I had the strangest dream. There was this weird circle and this strange white, formless room and some guy with a creepy grin and-"

"Mana! Don't ever do that again! You know better than to be casting high level magic at your level much less otherwordly forbidden arts!"

Shrieking, Mana scurried behind Atem, clutching at his deep purple cape. She popped her head out ever-so-slightly to glance warily at the tall man. "Pharaoh," she whispered hastily, though her idea of whispering was not very subtle. "There's a strange man here dressed in priestly robes! And he keeps yelling at me! Make him go away!" She pointedly stuck out her tongue at the man, who gawked in confusion and shock. "Mana!" Atem scolded, prying Mana's hands from his cape. "Stop fooling around and show your Master some respect!" Mana frowned, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion,

"But Pharaoh, I have no Master."


	5. Ren

A wave of gasps reverberated through the throne room. Mahad shook himself out of shock, angrily, yet almost desperately, he yelled, "No master...?! Mana! What is the meaning of this?!" A rich, yet aged voice bellowed behind them, "It is as the Tome has decreed. Everyone must pay the toll."

"Toll?!" Mahad yelled incredulously. "But Mana still has all of her limbs. She's stopped bleeding." Placing a hand underneath his chin, Mahad mused. "It seems to me this toll differs depending on the person who performs the transmutation."

"If that is the case," Akhenaden replied, "You must ask yourself. What can equal the value of her Master's soul?"

The value….of my soul? Mahad turned to Mana who was now clinging to Atem's arm in confusion and fear. Suddenly it dawned on him. "Mana!" He called, but the girl slipped underneath Atem's cloak, determined to put distance between herself and the strange man addressing her. "Mana," Atem said gently, coaxing her to come out from under the thick, purple cloth. "The man before you is no stranger. He is Mahad, a trusted member of my court and your master in the magical arts."

"Ma-who?"

Gently, Mahad placed his hands on his former apprentice's shoulders. He gazed into the depths of her aquamarine eyes for what seemed like an eternity. He stared so long and so deeply that Mana flushed a bright crimson in apprehension and embarrassment. "Mana." The girl ducked her head, effectively breaking the gaze. "Y-yes?" Sighing deeply, he responded, "My name is Mahad. Can you say that? Ma-had."

The young magician creased her brow in concentration. She attempted again and again, each time uttering some strange variation. For some reason, the syllables just would not come out right. It was as if some force, some magic, were preventing her from saying it. "Mana," Mahad said tenderly, effectively stopping Mana's efforts. "I need you to think back...back to when you were performing the 1011th spell. When you completed it, what did you see?"

"Well," she began. "There was this white space, with no ceiling or floor."

"Can you remember anything else?"

"A man with a creepy crooked grin. He showed me things, pictures and images I never understood until now. When I asked him to take me back through the doorway, he refused." Mana's hands tightened around Mahad's forearms. She was sniffling now. "I started bleeding on my chest and at the same time, a silver cartouche appeared on his neck."

"A cartouche? Mana, what did it say?"

Mana was crying softly into his chest now. "I can't…" She shook her head frantically. "I can see it, hanging from that horrible Truth creature's neck...but...I can't….I can't read it." She sobbed full force now, shaking so violently he thought the force would rend the Great Hall in two. "I understand now," Mahad said, as he gently pulled her close, rubbing her back in small circles. "If the Truth creature as she called it was wearing a cartouche, I bet that cartouche contained a name. A ren."

"Yours." Atem breathed, the reality and utter despair crashing down on him like a heavy weight.

"Yes," Mahad said sadly, palms still circling Mana's back. "That's why she no longer remembers me." Atem began to pace the floor. "But, Mahad….if I remember my Egyptian history lessons correctly," he flashed a quick smile at Master Shimon, "then a ren does not simply hold a name."

"That's right, my king." Shimon agreed. "The ren is one of nine parts of the soul. It is one's secret name. One's true name. It is the sum of all of a person's experiences, their deepest desires and most hidden fears. It is a record of their -"

"Memories!" Atem shouted in triumph before the horror of the implication dawned on him.

"So not only has she forgotten your name and who you are but she's lost every memory connected to you...!?" Atem shook his head, painfully aware of the sick cruelty of this alchemy. Mana went through all that to bring Mahad back only to lose him again through the loss of the knowledge of his ren. Little did the young pharaoh know that he would ultimately use his own ren as the eighth key, selaing both his name and his memories in order to defeat the evil god Zorc Necrophades and save the world from the Shadow Games.

"Wait..." Atem thought suddenly. "If she's forgotten every memory that is connected to you, what about-"

"Her magic!' Mahad finished. Gently tipping her head to meet his eyes, Mahad instructed, " Mana! Quickly, summon your staff!"

"My what?"

"Your staff! You've used it on countless occasions to channel the power of dark magic. So summon it right now. "

"But how can I summon a staff? I don't even know what it looks like!" She shouted in exasperation. Closing her eyes, she tried to appease the strange Mahemen -was that his name?- by concentrating as hard as she could, and imagining some glowing stick appearing. She groaned and squeezed her eyes tighter as she tried to bring the staff into existence. Mahad just blinked at her. Finally Atem called, "Mana. Stop it. You sound like you're constipated." Mahad tried to fight his growing panic. "I've got it! Mana! Cast your freezing spell on me."

"Good thinking, Mahad! That's her signature!"

Mana just stared at the floor. "I'm sorry Mister Maheena, I can't do what you're asking." Stepping before her, Mahad placed a hand on her temple. "Mana you have to at least try to-" He stopped. He paused, letting the magical energies of everyone in the room fill his senses. One by one, he phased each priest out trying to slowly single out Mana's magic. When he had closed his senses to all the others' magic, he finally felt...

Nothing.

He opend his eyes and stepped back, a look of absolute horror marring his features. "It's true. I can no longer feel the pulse of your magic."

Mana's magic is gone too!? What can be done to reverse the effects of this cruel toll Mana has paid?

As for terms, I think everything is clear. Hmm, I did mention ren, but I think Atem and Shimon explained that pretty well. (Thanks guys!) I also mentioned cartouche. Here are a few fun facts about them:

Cartouche: Not actually an Egyptian word. French. For a box of ammunition. The rectangular shape looked similar to them. Ooookay. The actual Egyptian term is "shenu" meaning eternity. The rope that coils around the name was meant to be protective and ensure that the name, usually the pharaoh's was protected from harm forever.


	6. Worthy

Mahad stood frozen. He had never been so utterly shocked. He had never felt so completely powerless. Mana, with tear trails still evident on her face, cast a concerned glance at the motionless man before scurrying over to Atem, burying herself in the familiar embrace of his strong arms. From his place beside the pharaoh's throne, Shimon sighed sadly, trying to ignore the horror in the magician's despairing gaze.

"Mahad…" he began, his voice tinged with sadness yet admiration. "It seems your student has finally mastered your greatest lesson."

"My greatest lesson?! You think I taught her to do this?! You think I've been training her all this time so she could foolishly give her life?! That's ridiculous! That's- my god!" Another look into Shimon's saddened eyes and it was clear to him. Dropping to his knees, Mahad staring at his hands as if they were cursed weapons. "I did teach her this! Back in that very same tomb….I taught her this….when I gave my life for the Pharaoh….I sent her the wrong message….taught her that her life was worthless….expendable….I taught her that this gift of life was frivolous….I modeled for her….that it was okay….okay to throw it all away…"

"Wake up, you blind fool of a magician!"

Mahad snapped out of his self-loathing to face none other than…. "Seto?!" In three long strides, Seto was looming in front of Mahad. Grabbing him unceremoniously by the scruff of his neck, Seto hauled the magician to his feet. "SETO!" The young pharaoh called. "Release him immediately!" Seto fixed his cold gaze on the bewildered magician in his grasp. "I will release him….but not before I make sure he understands clearly."

"Understands what?" The magician spat contemptuously, meeting Seto glare for glare. "Mana, that foolish girl you call your student...she didn't do this because you taught her that her life was worthless. She did it because you taught her the lives of those precious to her are worthy. Worthy of love. Worthy of devotion. And yes, even worthy of sacrifice." Seto, reaching the pinnacle of his rage at the last word, abruptly released Mahad. With a dismissive snort, he shoved Mahad aside and stormed out of the court.

Silence reigned in the Great Hall as the priests pondered Seto's words.

Storming madly past the entrance of the throne room, Seto found himself passing royal chambers, heedless of the guards stationed on the walls or the servants rushing about to finish chores. In his rage, he continued blindly, the rooms and lights and people dissolving into an angry blur. He stalked on, not knowing where he was going, yet it seemed….his feet had decided on a path. Muttering under his breath, Seto cursed the dimwitted magician for making him lose his temper. He cursed the strange alchemy for disrupting his plans to catch Bakura. He cursed Mana for being so foolhardy with her spells.

Seto continued to pace the halls, not knowing that in the weeks to come, he would hate to admit it, even to himself, but he would be envious of Mahad, of Mana, and even his cousin, Atem. At least they would have a chance to save what was precious to them….Seto would never know that opportunity. Instead, he would be forced to stomach the harsh reality as Kisara, the only woman he would ever love, would be murdered right before his eyes. Not a day would go by in his coming reign as Pharaoh in Atem's stead that he wouldn't curse his own helplessness, his inability to stop the High Priest of Darkness and prevent her untimely death.

But right now, all Seto knew was that the white-haired maiden lie sleeping in one of the vacant rooms where he had kept her in secret since rescuing her from being stoned by an angry crowd. All Seto knew was that he loved her - deeply, totally, vulnerably. He knew he would sacrifice his life in an instant if it meant saving hers.

Back in the Great Hall, Shimon cleared his throat. "Mahad," he began gently. "What I think Seto was trying to say is...is that your devotion is an inspiration to us all." Shimon paused, trying to detect the slightest change in Mahad's demeanor. Mahad simply stared straight through him, the look of horror now diminished to a quiet despair.

Sighing, Shimon continued. "Most people have it wrong when it comes to love. The fire of emotions and affections is not what signals a strong bond. At the back of all appearances and easy displays of affections lies the truth. A truth that you have lived and modeled before Mana."

Glancing up to meet Shimon's gaze, Mahad simply asked. "And what truth is that, Master Shimon?"

Smiling, his eyes alight with admiration, Shimon answered, "The truth you taught her is this: The real measure of love is its costliness. The higher the cost, the truer the bond. The greater the sacrifice, the truer the love."

"And," Shimon finished, noting with relief the look of understanding on Mahad's face, "In all my years, the love Mana has for you, and for the Pharaoh is among the truest loves I have ever seen."


	7. Vulnerable

As Shimon looked on, he noticed the slight change in Mahad. As the look of irresolute determination crossed his features, as the ring began to hum and the spines twirl wildly, Shimon knew it was happening again. _Just like on that day_...

Cautiously, Shimon cleared his throat. "Mahad, I know you want to help Mana, but you must not do anything ras-"

"Lord Shimon...I will stake my life to carry out my duty!"

Shimon started. It was the very same thing Mahad had declared the day he went to fight Bakura in the Valley of the Kings. He had approached Mahad with the intent of swaying him from any rash actions. He knew, despite the Pharaoh's forgiveness, Mahad was crushed by his failure to prevent the defiling of Akhnamkanen's tomb. Shimon knew that Mahad's strong sense of loyalty could lead him to take desperate measures - like facing the Thief King alone….or using the Millennium Ring to..._No!_ He wouldn't!...Would he...?

"And right now," Mahad continued, a note of impregnable resolve ringing with every word. "My duty is to restore Mana. I will not be accused of loving less truly than my own student! She was willing to sacrifice everything to bring me back. I _must _take this risk if there is any chance it will help her!"

Crossing his arms, Mahad blocked all sound, all motion out of his mind and _concentrated_. Magic hummed all around him. The stone floor vibrated as if it had come to life. The room darkened, the fiery braziers shifting from bright orange to deep purple - the color of dark magic. A string of words in an ancient, high level tongue, words so divine they hurt the ears of everyone in the room, slipped with ease from Mahad's mouth as he chanted one of his most secret spells. The spines of the Millennium Ring began twisting erratically, darkly golden light emanating from the eye in the center.

Racing down the steps, Shimon shrieked, "No, Mahad! You _mustn't_!"

The room went black. The priests gasped. Mana screamed, a frightened shriek that echoed through the long hall. But Mahad remained unfazed, unmoving. All traces of light, of magic, of energy had been absorbed into the Millennium Ring. Mahad's chanting ceased. Drawing in a deep breath, he uttered a single command word:

Fah! _**Release! **_

In the stillness, the Pharaoh could have sworn he heard a faint click, like the opening of a lock. Then abruptly, the room exploded in a flash of searing light, blinding the priests and setting the fiery braizers newly aglow with flames of a dark, sinister crimson - the color of chaos. Tendrils of black shadows swirled around Mahad's figure, forming an almost _protective _circle around him.

"Mahad!" the young Pharaoh cried in a mixture of horror and disbelief. "What have you _done?_"

The magician remained still, dark power rolling from him in sinister waves. His priestly robes, normally of a pristine, brilliant white, were now a deep blood-red. When at last he spoke, his voice was _many_.

"_**How nice of you to let us come out to play….keeper of the Ring."**_

"He's released them!" Akhenaden cried, covering his Millennium Eye to block the images of the seething shadows surrounding Mahad. "The spirits of Kul Elna sealed in the Ring!"

"The spirits?!" Atem gasped, her horror-stricken gaze fixed on Mahad. "N-no….he can't! He has taxed the very core of his magic just to seal them _away_...If he's released them now….th-they will _consume_ him!"

"_**Ah, so this is the keeper's beloved pharaoh." **_The voices hissed, as Mahad inclined his head to meet his king's gaze. As the sight of the young sovereign filled his senses, the voices became a rushing torrent, their screams delirious with sadistic pleasure. "_**Yes...you are quite beautiful…" **_The voices purred. Then, their pitch darkened, their voices sharp like the wicked edge of a blade, _**We bet your blood tastes delicious…."**_

Atem visibly stiffened at the comment. Narrowing his eyes, the young king snarled, "Return from whence you came, foul _demons!_"

"_**Come now, pharaoh….We can't do that….The keeper of the Ring has summoned us. We must do his bidding..."**_

Rage boiled beneath the surface of his skin. "You lie! Mahad would _never_ consort with the likes of you!"

Mahad raised his index finger, wagging it from side to side in a characteristic gesture that made Atem sick with fury and pain. "_**Tsk, tsk, tsk...That's where you're wrong….He would call upon us…" **_Mahad stretched out his arm, finger pointing at the young mage still clinging to the Pharaoh, ..._**to restore her..."**_

Mana shrieked, clinging desperately to the young sovereign. Mahad approached them, each step causing the tendrils of shadows to frenzy.

"Stay away from me!" Mana screamed, tears springing in the corners of her eyes. "Mahad! I know you're in there!" The Pharaoh shouted. Then, pleading, "_Fight them!_ You cannot allow them to devour your soul!"

Mahad's footsteps stopped. As Atem met his gaze, he saw a familiar gentleness in those warm, brown depths. When Mahad spoke next, the voice was his own. "My Pharaoh... Please... Step aside. I must restore my student..."

Atem hesitated as Mana stiffened against him. "How can I be sure it's you and not _them _talking?"

Slowly Mahad curled his right hand into a fist, dragging his arm until it rested over his heart.

Atem staggered. Four priests rushed to assist him. Atem held out his hand in a gesture of calm. The priests stilled, but eyed Mahad warily.

_That pose! _He thought in wonder. It was a symbolic gesture, etched into the funerary carvings of many a Pharaoh. It symbolized taking one's heart from one's left chest and presenting it to the Pharaoh in a gesture of absolute loyalty. And it was Mahad's signature stance.

"Alright. I trust you." Turning to Mana, he gently pried her hands free from his clothes, placing a soft kiss on each palm. "I'll be right here. I promise."

Sniffling, nodding once, Mana bravely stepped forward. Mahad gently placed his hands on Mana's shoulders, the shadows at his feet seeming to dissipate. "Mana," he began, his voice warm and rich with tender affection. "You are my student. You are as precious to me as a daughter or sister. I am Mahad. I am your master, your mentor, your friend." Losing himself in her aquamarine gaze, Mahad gently commanded, "Please..._remember!_"

He sent a wave a dark magic and shadow only for it to be repelled by what seemed like a forcefield, pushing him back. Staggering, huffing for breath, he saw a doorway with strange markings shimmer transparently in front of Mana. The alchemy was blocking him.

Again and again he pounded away with his dark magic and shadow, each time the wall rose up to meet it.

Blast. Repel. Stagger. "Remember!... Remember!...Remember!"

"Remember, _**DAMMIT!"**_

With his final cry of fury and frustration, the shadows began to swarm. In the hidden recesses of his soul, a torrent of screaming, jeering, mocking voices went hysterical. The voices spoke louder, whispering, assuring him that they were his friend and all else was his enemy. They sensed his guilt, sorrow, and crushing despair - and exploited it. With sweet words, they twisted his thoughts.

_**You loved your student...? And what did that love bring you...? Nothing but pain. Oh...our dear keeper of the ring...you're so called friends have lied to you...To love isn't to be strong**_**...**

They continued, each word becoming more persuasive and more menacing.

_**To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung. -You must give it to no one. -No one but us.- Lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness. In that casket, safe, dark, motionless, it will change. -It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable.**_

"That weird golden dreamcatcher! It's hurting him! We have to stop it!" Mana turned toward the magician. Shimon scrambled his way over, grabbing Mana roughly by the arm. "Mana, stay away from him! Mahad...he…" With a quick, pained gaze at Mahad and the increasingly frantic shadows swirling at his feet, he turned back toward Mana, his voice despondent, yet firm. "He's not himself anymore….You must not go near him now!"

Fearfully, Mana turned to gaze at the spellcaster. A trembling hand was pressed against his forehead, as if he was attempting to keep the voices -which threatened to split his mind and fracture his soul into tiny, raging pieces - at bay. Drunk with delirium, the shadows at his feet began to spread, engulfing more and more of the floor in their dark grip. The priests, with uncomprehending fear and shock at Mahad's changed persona, scrambled toward the throne, hawling a raging, defiant Atem and a silent Mana, whose gaze still had not strayed from the magician.

"_Release_ me! I must stop this!" Atem cried, trying to force his way between the guardians.

"The shadows will _devour_ him!" Ignoring their king's protests, Kareem and Shada pushed Atem into his throne, taking up protective positions in front of him. "I'm sorry, my king." Isis said, a single tear streaming down her face. "Mahad has surrendered his soul to the shadows. There is no longer anything we can do." Swiping at the tear with the back of her hand, she forced herself to look away from spellcaster….forced herself to swallow her pain as, with a firm note of finality, she said, "He's….he's _gone_…"

Atem's eyes widened at the implication of Isis's words. Jumping to his feet, Atem again tried to push his way past the priests. "I have already lost him once! I will _not _lose him again! I _refuse_ to endure that pain a second time!" Taking care not to injure him, Kareem and Shada shoved Atem roughly back into the golden throne. "Great pharaoh!" Shada said, gritting his teeth and raising the Millennium Key to peer into Mahad's soul. "With each passing moment, the shadows feast on more and more of Mahad. Soon-" He stopped, unable to utter the horrible truth. With a ragged sigh, Kareem finished, "Soon there will be nothing left."

"….The Mahad we knew and loved will be no more...I'm sorry, my king…"

Narrowing his eyes in violent, almost savage fury, Atem gripped the armrests of his throne, nails digging into the hard, golden surface. "I _said_," he breathed in defiance, an edge of brokenness twisting his tone, "I will _not_ lose him again!" He pushed himself off the glorious seat and again tried to reach Mahad. Fearing for their king's safety and crushed with the weight of his obvious pain, Shada and Kareem held him back, pleading with him to see reason. "_MAHAD!_" Atem screamed, his voice cracking as he finally sunk to his knees in crushing despair. "Fight them...please….you must not….be consumed…"

As the two priests supported their broken pharaoh's shoulders, a soft patter of footsteps descended the stairs. "Mana!" Shimon cried. "Get back here this _instant!_" Mana stopped mid-step. Then, without a backwards glance, she took off running, jumping to avoid the expanding pool of shadows, tears blinding her. She stopped right in front of the magician. He looked up, his once warm brown eyes aglow with bloody fire. The torrent of mocking voices spoke, a cruel, insane conundrum, "_**Leave us, little magician-girl! Your love cannot save him now! He is OURS!" **_

Mana placed a gentle hand over his left chest and cried out as the shadows curling around him burned her skin like dark flames. "_Mana!_" Shimon urged again. "Get out of there!" Ignoring him, Mana flattened her hand, desperate to feel the pulse of his heartbeat - that undying proof of his human core. "Mahalo….or Maheena...or whatever your name is….I don't know who you are anymore..." Staring unwaveringly into his eyes, she continued, fighting against the pain as the shadow flames continued to sear her hand. "_But_, what I do know is that you care for me...and….for some reason I can no longer remember….I care for you too!"

Pausing, Mana stood on her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss against her former master's cheek.

"So...in honor of the love we once shared….I _refuse_ to let the shadows take you!"

Latching her fingers through the ring, blistering heat scorching her skin, Mana gave an incredibly forceful tug. With that one determined tug, Mana snapped the rope holding the Millennium Ring around the magician's neck. With that one determined tug, she ripped the spines of the Ring from where they had dug inside his chest, fresh blood splashing her face and deepening the already dark crimson of Mahad's robes. With a shriek, she hurled the unholy object against the palace wall, where it clattered limply to the ground in a crumpled heap. In their death throes, the shadows surrounding Mahad lunged for the former apprentice, determined to make her pay for interfering. At the last second, Atem, who had successfully broken away from his guardians dove for Mana, enfolding her against his chest as he rolled and smacked against the wall, pain shooting up his back. "Are you alright?" The young sovereign breathed as Mana began to sob uncontrollably, mourning for memories that were no longer hers to cherish.

In the center of the Great Hall, Mahad collapsed to one knee, his breathing ragged and labored, his head splitting, his soul seething as if on fire. Although the voices had ceased the moment Mana pried the Ring from his chest, their words kept replaying in his head -his very cells seeming to scream the words and boil his blood.

_**To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung. -You must give it to no one. - Lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness. In that casket, safe, dark, motionless, it will change. -It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable.**_

Casting a solemn glance at the sobbing form of Mana, the spellcaster stood and walked silently out of the Great Hall.

It was in that moment Mahad decided he would _never _be vulnerable again….


End file.
